


Worth the Wait

by lea_ysaye



Category: Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, The Walking Dead RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, RPF, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4526352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_ysaye/pseuds/lea_ysaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You meet two perfect men. What would you like to happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth the Wait

You were running late. Rushing, sprinting, dodging your fellow metropolitans, the city you know like the back of your hand a blur. Out of breath when you got there, heart hammering, hoping, praying you didn’t miss anything.

Now, rushing couldn’t be further from your mind. Languid strokes, once, twice, up your right side. Shudders, goose bumps erupting, most delicious torture. Strong fingers, gentle, firm, sure.

Then another sensation, another set of hands. Your eyes flutter shut at the intensity of your nerve endings reacting to this deliciousness. These hands are rougher, stronger, even surer. Short and broad, solid, luscious. Your mind forms an image as they trace the outline of the tattoo on your shoulder. Ink’s still fresh, his fascination with the motif vivid in your mind.

You’re drifting off, almost. So relaxed, so sated on sensation. Then a shift, a nudge. Lips on your shoulder blade, kisses, then tongue, licking, sucking. Your breath hitches. Your eyes fly open.

“I can taste you…”

Your gaze alights on him, the one in front. He’s not looking at you just now, fascinated, distracted by the one behind you. Eyes sparkle, with delight, with renewed lust. You know what’s going to happen next, and you feel the warmth building deep inside, the electricity that has been coursing through the three of you all night.

The one in front looks at you then. Eyes dark as the other one’s are light, he fixes you, holds you, and you know you couldn’t look away if you wanted to.

You don’t want to.

He shifts closer, not breaking eye contact. His left hand comes up, flutters against your belly, travels up, skirts nipples so hard now they hurt. As his hand descends again he lowers his head. You can feel his fingers pushing, probing further down. With a sigh you spread your legs. His fingers don’t hesitate, nor do his lips.

Teeth on soft skin, so gentle at first. Licking, pulling away. Wetness cooling makes you tremble. His fingers find your clit, start their dance, sure, knowledgeable, unselfconscious. As teeth close around your nipple you groan and sink back, shifting, adjusting for better access.

And the other one holds you, warm, solid, familiar against your back. He pulls you in, close, closer. So close you think he wants to crawl inside, take up residence within your skin. You glance up. Your eyes meet. Recognition, just like the first moment you two locked eyes that morning. Familiarity. Kindred spirits? You don’t really believe in anything at first sight, not really…

Well, maybe lust?

His face is so close to yours you can see every freckle, can smell the cigarettes, the bourbon. You tilt your head back further, rest it on his shoulder as the pace of fingers, lips, teeth increases. For a second you lose track, so close. Close. Close. Then a shift and you can think again. Grateful while disappointed at the same time.

“Not yet.”

It’s the blue eyed man gazing down at you who speaks, who holds you, keeps you tethered in every sense of the word. You focus on him, his chest rising and falling against you, the soft, almost ginger hair of his body a constant stimulus.

With one hand he grips your chin, tilts your head. Studies you for a moment, then dips down. Hot breath on the side of your face, lips fluttering along your jaw. A moan escapes you, you can’t help it. Suddenly you need more. More contact, more everything. Blindly groping, hand alighting on heated flesh. He shifts again, presses into you. You can feel his length against your thigh, warm, solid, perfect, just like the rest of him. Of them both.

He moves against you, breath now hitching against your neck. Moans, again, now not yours alone. A tremble against your belly, where lips are now traveling down. You can feel yourself open, pulse, throb, as fingers are replaced by wetness. Tongue flicking, most delicious sensation. Again close. Close. Close.

“Soon.”

Shift, again. Your back resting against the other one now. The one with the blue eyes has taken charge, is moving limbs into place. Arranges you, all three of you. Looks at the other one, nods. You can’t see the one holding you now, but you can feel his heartbeat, his hands on you, caressing, keeping you from waning, on the edge, riding, close, close. You touch yourself as you watch the one in front prepare himself. He really is perfect. Size, girth, exactly, precisely fitting. Like it’s meant to be.

He freezes, looks down. Locks you in. A long moment, impossibly long. Your heart is beating in your throat, you are about to melt, or explode. Hands on himself now, slow strokes, gaze from hooded eyes. Dreamy, alert, perfect. As he lowers himself he looks up, locks in on the one holding you.

You spread, shift. Then he’s there, inside, on top, everywhere. Filling you up like nothing should. Just holds still, eyes closed now, inhaling. So close.

“Can smell you. Can feel you…”

“Yes, yes, me too…”

You’re not going to last, they have made sure of that. The rhythm he picks is impossible, seductive, frenzied. You pull him in, he comes all the way. Enters, withdraws. One hand between you, on your belly briefly, then on your clit. You grab on, clutch his arms, shoulders. Shimmers of his own tattoos flutter across the inside of your eyes as you close them.

Close, close. No longer a choice, a necessity.

Arms around you, holding fast from behind. Back arches, thrusting yourself onto him. Strong fingers, not gentle now at all, pressing down, holding, holding as you tip over.

It never seems to want to end. A hand on your breast, nipple rigid against gentle fingers. More fingers still trapped between you, keeping pace with your wave, rubbing, pinching. He knows just the right moment, you don’t know how, but he does. On the downward end now, winding up, he pushes in again, thumb pressing down hard on your clit. One, two thrusts and he brings you again, different this time, deeper.

A shiver runs through you, almost pain, electricity, still delicious, just about. The second peak more intense, like a red shift, less of you, more of the animal, the uncontrollable. He lets you ride it out, clinging to him, not letting go until you’re ready.

He’s held himself back, and you know what’s coming next.

When he pulls away and out he pulls you close as he arranges himself on the bed. Eyes locked, you can tell how close he is, how much he’s fighting to hold back. His gaze shifts to the pair of dark eyes observing you both.

“Now.”

You place a hand on his chest as he lies back, spreads his legs. Your hand wanders down, cups his balls. He moans, shivers, stops dead and just _feels_ , for a minute. He doesn’t want you to let go, you know that, but he needs you to hold still, wait for the hazel-eyed man to be ready. Which takes no time at all, in the end.

Your hand stays still, between his legs, as you watch the other man shift round, position himself, prepare. Brown eyes lock with yours for a second, and you can see the lust, the desire, need, as strong, as inevitable as you just felt it yourself. You watch as he lowers himself between the other man’s legs and are almost, but not quite, surprised to feel yourself react immediately as the two of them connect.

One hand still on his balls, the other now wandering between your own legs. Vaguely wondering if you can bring yourself, come again, so soon. A hand joins yours on him, his own, moving yours onto his shaft. A glance into blue eyes and you know what to do. Soft strokes, up and down his length, and he’s writhing. His own hand still hovers, caresses his balls, and you watch, fascinated, by the perfect rhythm you find between you.

The hand on yourself keeps pace, fingers slick now, blood coursing fast, flooding with each heartbeat. You are close again, just when you can tell that they are both close too. Hazel eyes, watching you, watching your hand on yourself. You shift so he can see, and his breath picks up.

Blue eyes in hazel ones, then on you. He bites his lips as the other one’s thrusts pick up pace. You are lying against his side, perfectly in sync, breath rising and falling as you all move closer, closer. Close.

He comes first, his spunk squirting hotly onto your hand, his stomach. You tighten your grip, feel him pulse, hot, impossible, perfect.

The other one’s not a second behind. The tightening around his shaft tips him over and he comes with a groan, head first thrown back, then lowered, and they ride it out together.

Then you are there, again, a third time in less than thirty minutes, and yet it could be the first time ever, it feels so good.

Eyes on each other, all three of you ride the wave as long as it will carry you. Nobody rushes, nobody needs to. You have all night, and you all know that this is not over yet, not by far.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is, of course, pure fantasy and bears no resemblance to the actors depicted. My filthy mind is to blame entirely.


End file.
